


Well Handled

by sneetchstar



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Crane overhears a conversation between Abbie and Jenny that gives him some new ideas about what to do with his feelings.





	

"Really? Damn, girl, good for you!" Abbie's voice reaches Ichabod's ears as he enters the house after yet another meeting with Zoe. She had wanted to go to dinner after, but he declined. He is tired. Tired because they were out most of the previous night chasing down a creature, but also tired of dealing with bureaucracy. Tired of pointless paperwork. Tired of Zoe's increasingly cloying attention.

He quietly closes the door behind him, trying not to listen but unable to help himself. The Lieutenant is speaking at full volume and should have been well aware of his possible return at any moment.

"No, Danny was… fine, but…" her voice trails off and she is quiet for a second, then she bursts forth in wonderful, melodious, _devilish_ laughter. "What was it you said about… what's his name… Adam? 'He couldn't handle me.' He tried, but… let's just say I hope Joe can _handle_ you."

_She must be talking to Miss Jenny._

"Wait, whoa, whoa! I don't want all the details! Well, yeah, okay, I kinda do, but… no. As long as you're good, I'm good," she says, giggling.

Crane freezes, his coat dangling from his hand, hanger clasped in the other. _I don't believe I've ever heard her giggle before._

"You _are_ good, right?" Abbie asks, her sister, her tone now serious.

He bends to remove his boots, knowing young Joe will indeed treat Miss Jenny with utmost care and love. He could see the depth of the other man's feelings for her before he even made his feelings known.

"Aw," Abbie sighs, clearly having heard something nice. Then after a long pause, "Damn. _Damn._ "

Crane knows this is a good "damn" and only half wonders to what she is referring. He has an inkling.

"Wouldn't have thought it, to be honest. Of course, he _was_ a Marine."

_Perhaps I do not have an inkling._

"That was at the cabin, right? 'Cause I can't see your RV standing up to…" She dissolves into giggles again.

Crane's ears perk up and he pauses mid-step, one foot barely touching the ground.

"Oh yeah, I _know_. It's fun to be in charge, but sometimes a girl just wants to… you know… get _taken._ That's one thing Danny never got." A pause. "Neither did Luke."

Her voice rings with disappointment. Suddenly, Crane realizes how much he was eavesdropping, and a wave of guilt hits him. He creeps back to the front door, waits until she is laughing again, and opens the door. Then he loudly closes it. "Lieutenant? Are you home?"

"In here," Abbie calls. "Crane's home," she says into the phone. Then she laughs. He can barely hear her say, "Oh God, I'm sure he'd be horrified."

His lips curl into a sly smile before he schools his features and walks into the living room. He is horrified, but it's only with himself for listening in on their private conversation. _In fact, I would relish the opportunity to show Miss Mills that I am not the prudish monk she believes me to be._

"Talk to you later, Jen. Try to actually get some sleep tonight," she says, smiling, before she disconnects the call.

"Is Miss Jenny not sleeping well?" Crane asks, a picture of innocence.

"Something like that," Abbie answers, avoiding his eyes as she reaches for her beverage.

xXx

A week passes. Three demons, two meetings with Zoe, and one Underworld flashback/nightmare for Abbie.

Pretty standard.

Friday night, Crane returns home from the second meeting earlier than Abbie was expecting. He finds her in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, watching _Chopped._

"You're home early," she comments. "I figured you two were going to have a cozy little dinner after you got all your details squared away for your test next week."

He stands in the doorway, hands behind his back, his expression uncharacteristically unreadable. Abbie feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up; she's not used to _not_ being able to practically read his mind.

"What's going on?" she asks when he says nothing.

"Miss Mills, it seems you enjoy pushing me towards Miss Corinth," he quietly says, finally deciding to act on his suspicions about his partner and her carefully-guarded feelings.

She blinks, scooting back on the couch so she is sitting up. "I just want you to get out there, you know? Live a little. It's been over a ye—"

"No," he says, stepping into the room on silent, stockinged feet. "It isn't that."

"What? You think you know what I'm doing more than I do, is that it?" she asks. "You think you know me better than I know myself?"

"Yes," he simply answers, moving closer. "I think you are pushing me towards Miss Corinth because it is away from you."

"Now hold on—"

"Keeping me at a safe distance allows you to also keep your own feelings at a safe distance," he presses on. "If I am involved with another, you can keep telling yourself you cannot feel anything beyond friendship for me." He is looming over her now. "Most curious, given the fact that you once professed quite vehemently that romantic entanglements were a 'complication' and would be troublesome because you would not be able to share all of yourself with that person." He angles his head to the side and adds, "Did you not think the same prohibitions would also apply to me? Or did you think I would simply tell Miss Corinth that I was born in 1749 and am one of two Biblical Witnesses destined to prevent the apocalypse? It is not something that one can easily drop into a conversation, as I am sure you are aware."

Abbie stands, staring daggers up at him, hands planted on her hips. "You done?"

"For the moment."

She takes a deep breath. "All right. _You,_ " she pokes his chest, "don't get to be all high and mighty, using my words against me to tell me what my feelings are. You can barely handle your own emotions half the time and you stand there thinking you can just _read_ me?" she asks. She's angry, but it's not because he's wrong. She's angry because he is 100% correct.

"You know I can," he replies, unfazed by her anger. In fact, his voice is low and soft, almost seductive as he gazes down at her. His eyebrow twitches upward, and she wants to punch him for his smugness. "I am the only one who can, and while it angers you, it also excites you." Her lips are parted, her breathing is shallow, and her eyes are slightly dilated. Her chest heaves when she breathes and he can see a faint rosiness rising in her creamy dark complexion. Her anger is butted right up against desire. Just as he anticipated.

"Crane," she says, her voice wavering just enough to give him the opening he wants.

He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. "Abbie," he rumbles, "do you not see?" He brings his other hand up and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing over her cheek. "I know you can _read_ me as well as I can you," he continues, trailing his fingers down to her chin to tilt her lovely face up to his. He longs to simply dip his head and tell her with kisses, but while he remembers (with sparkling clarity) her telling Jenny about wanting to just get _taken_ , he knows this moment needs more care than that. "Did it never occur to you that there is nothing we need to keep hidden from one another? Did it never occur to you that Zoe's company, while agreeable enough, is _not what I truly want_?" His long fingers are still dallying near her face, his touch feather-light as it flits from her cheek to her neck. "Or are you being willfully blind?" he asks, his voice dropping to a whispered growl.

"Fuck you, Crane," she replies, then lifts up on tiptoe and presses her lips against his in a rather forceful kiss.

He groans in the back of his throat, his arm tightening on her waist as his hand slips around behind her head to support it as she leans up into him, her hands fisting his shirt. She backs off after about two seconds, pulling back just enough to coax his lips apart with her tongue. He eagerly sucks her soft, sweet tongue into his mouth, meeting it with his own.

He lets her have the upper hand for three more seconds.

Then he suddenly moves, sliding his hands down under her backside to lift her into his arms.

She yelps in surprise, pulling away just long enough to exclaim, "Oh!" before she finds her legs being guided around his waist. She clings to his neck with her arms and tightens her legs around him, hanging on, and he begins walking, hearing some poor chef learn he has been chopped as they leave the living room.

Towards _his_ bedroom.

"What about Zoe?" Abbie finds her brain and her voice as Crane begins kissing her neck.

"I told her tonight I am not interested in anything beyond friendship with her," he explains between kisses. He kicks his bedroom door closed. "I simply explained that my heart is already the property of another." He manages to reach down with one hand and yank the bedclothes back.

"Oh," Abbie dumbly answers as she lands on the bed, knowing this is why he was home early.

"She correctly guessed to whom it belongs," he informs her, pulling her slippers from her feet and dropping them to the floor.

"Oh no," she replies, worried that his citizenship will be delayed because of this.

He shakes his head, crawling over her and reaching for her t-shirt. "There is no need to worry," he reassures her, kissing her lips and neck before pulling her shirt up and off.

"You sure?" she asks, only vaguely noting that her clothing is quickly being relocated to the floor.

"Quite," he answers, gazing down at her. She is reclined on his bed in her bra and panties, looking up at him, her kiss-swollen lips parted, doe eyes wide. He pauses for just one moment. "Are _you_ certain you wish to proceed with where this," he gestures between them, "is surely leading?"

"Yes, Crane. Ichabod," she answers. "I want this. I want _you._ "

"Good." He whips his shirt off over his head with uncharacteristic carelessness, tossing it aside to join her garments, then removes his trousers and socks, his eyes barely leaving hers.

"Um… I have condoms in my room," Abbie says, her voice coming out weaker than she expected.

"I also have some in _my_ room," Crane counters, kneeling between her legs on the bed. He crawls over her. "Master Corbin made some comment about 'being a good Boy Scout' and then put them in the pocket of my coat." He leans down and kisses her, reaching into a drawer in his nightstand. He places something on the top, then returns his full attention to Abbie.

"The motto of the Boy Scouts is—"

"'Be prepared', yes, I know," he interjects, kissing down her neck. "I Google searched the Boy Scouts."

"Of course you did," she replies. "Oh, right there," she adds when he finds a sensitive spot.

Crane complies, sucking at her skin just enough to draw a gasp from her and make her writhe a little beneath him. He slips his hands beneath her back. "This garment must be removed," he declares. She arches her back a little, and he makes quick work of the clasp before quickly removing and tossing the garment aside. "God's wounds," he murmurs, diving forward over her once again, placing wet, sucking kisses on the base of her neck. He begins moving lower until he reaches her breasts, where he lingers, kissing all around except for where she wants him.

"Ichabod…" Abbie moans, tugging his hair, then sliding her fingertips along his scalp.

He isn't so easily plied, wishing to show her exactly how well he can _handle_ her. He smiles against her skin, his beard scratchy and soft at the same time as he teases her.

"Crane." She sounds a bit more impatient now.

"Patience, dearest," he says, then lifts his head. "I _do_ know what I am doing," he adds with so much smug confidence that she isn't sure if she wants to punch him or flip him on his back and ride him like she's going somewhere.

She decides on a compromise. "Arrogant ass," she says, then grabs his head and pulls him back down over her.

When he finally closes his lips over a waiting nipple and swirls his tongue around the hardened nub, she cries out. He lightly bites it, drawing a gasp from her. She arches her back and writhes under his ministrations.

"Mmm," he hums, pleased to discover how responsive she is. His fingers dance over her skin, skimming down to the snug black scrap of silky material barely covering her. He blindly gropes, tracing the edges of it, both at the waist and leg, as he kisses across to her other breast. His fingers find the firm but supple swell of her backside and he groans.

"There are so many things I wish to do with you, Lieutenant," he murmurs against her chest. " _Abbie_ ," he corrects. "So many things I wish to do _to_ you."

"Huh?" she asks, thrown.

"Oh, yes," he rumbles, gently biting the lower curve of her breast, then soothing the spot with his tongue. "You might find I am quite full of surprises." And with that, he hooks his long fingers into her panties and has them down and off before she even realizes what he's done. He sheds his boxers immediately after, then returns to the bed, prowling over her, kissing his way up her body. One hand lingers near her thighs, dragging slowly up to gently press against her center. He reaches her lips and kisses her, his tongue slipping into her mouth at the same time as his finger slips into her folds.

Abbie moans into his mouth, angling her hips into his hand as she fists his hair in both of hers. She can feel his length against her thigh and reaches down to touch him. Her small fingers grasp and stroke him, and he tears his lips away to mutter a soft curse.

They each seem to instinctively know what the other likes, how they enjoy being touched. There is no fumbling or awkwardness as they silently explore each other.

Crane flexes his hips thrusting into her hand before he remembers. "Abbie, can you reach…?"

"Yeah," she answers, flinging her free hand out to the side, groping for the condom he placed on the nightstand. She finds it and tears it free from the others, her fingers trembling slightly as his fingers are still busy between her legs. She is just about to ask if he wants her help with it when he kisses her soundly, then plucks it from her fingers.

Crane sits back on his heels, deftly opens the packet, and rolls the condom over his length, watching her most of the time.

Abbie bites her lower lip, trying not to appear as impressed as she is. She wonders if he has been practicing, but dares not ask. She slowly releases her lip, raising one knee in invitation while she sees his eyes grow dark and his expression turn slightly feral.

"Minx," he growls, then he is on her again, hooking his arm under her knee to raise it further as he leans forward, claiming her lips as he slides into her.

"Ohhh…" she hoarsely moans, throwing her head back. "Oh," she repeats when he pulls back and thrusts forward.

He moves his arm, freeing her leg, but she keeps it there, even moving it higher to rest her ankle on his shoulder. She hooks the other one on his hips and slides her hands up his chest, nails scratching his skin.

He groans, gently kneading one breast, his thumb toying with her nipple. He wants to kiss her, so he leans forward, bending his back to reach her. Her foot stays up on his shoulder, bending her nearly in half as he strokes her tongue in concert with his hips.

Abbie slides one hand into his hair again, holding him there. She finally moves her leg down, planting it on the bed. Her other foot does the same and she levers herself up to meet his thrusts.

Ichabod takes the hint and increases his efforts, pulling his lips from hers to rest his forehead against hers. "Oh, my treasure," he murmurs, nuzzling her nose with his. "You are magnificent."

"Yeah," she agrees, amazed he can even form coherent statements right now. She is about to burst, feeling like she will explode into a million stars at any moment. "Oh, yeah," she repeats, her fingers digging into his skin. "Oh! Ichab…" Her exclamation fades into a gasp as she arches beneath him.

"Yes, Love," he whispers, still moving, driving to his own finish, which descends upon him rather quickly. His body stills, every muscle taut, and he exhales a deliciously decadent sound that is a cross between a groan and a growl. Spent, he collapses over her, his face tucked into her neck.

"Mmm," Abbie hums, wrapping her arms around him, holding him there. She loves his weight on top of her. He is heavy. Solid. Present. She knows he will not leave her again. He tries to move and she tightens her hold on him. "No, stay there."

Ichabod doesn't argue. He settles back in, sliding out of her and resting his head on her chest. "One moment," he says, dispenses with the condom, then returns exactly where he was.

"That was kind of amazing," she says after a minute, toying with his hair.

"Only 'kind of' amazing?" he counters, glancing up at her.

"Very," she amends.

"Most assuredly," he agrees. He kisses her chest, then sighs. "I have a confession," he adds.

"What?" she asks, slightly alarmed, having no idea what he is about to say.

"I overheard your conversation with Miss Jenny last week." He goes on to tell her how he entered the house several minutes before she thought he did. "Forgive me, dearest Abbie, I did not mean to intrude, did not mean to eavesdrop, but once my ears caught what you were discussing, I…"

"Hey," she says, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "It's okay. I probably would have done the same thing." She snorts. "I probably would have listened even longer," she adds, laughing now.

"You're not angry?" he asks.

"No," she answers, pushing him to the side. "Your beard is irritating my chest," she says as she heaves him onto his back, trading places so that she is resting her head on him.

"We cannot have that," he agrees, trailing his fingers down her side, making her shiver. "It would not do to mar this silken skin." He moves his other hand to caress her breast.

"No, it would not do at all," she says, snuggling against him while she reaches for the blankets with her feet.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

"Well, I _am_ a bit naked here," she answers, sitting up to pull the blankets over them.

"So I've noticed," he responds, watching her with undisguised interest. Once she is settled again, he asks, "Tell me, Miss Mills, do you think I can _handle_ you?"

Abbie looks up and sees that familiar half-smile on his face, the one he uses when he is trying to make her laugh. She leans up and kisses him. "I'm not sure yet. I think more research is in order."

"Capital idea," Crane answers, pulling her over him so she is lying on top of him. "We must be thorough." They kiss and touch for a time, losing themselves in one another.

"Ichabod," she whispers, then places a small kiss on his lips. "I love you." She kisses him again.

His eyes close and his head drops back, smiling blissfully as though this was the best news anyone has ever told him. "Oh, my Abbie," he answers. "I love you, too." He kisses her. "I love you, too," he repeats in a reverent whisper just before losing himself in her kisses once again.


End file.
